


The Heat of your Thighs

by RivetingFabrications



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Smut, literally that's just it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:22:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8520106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivetingFabrications/pseuds/RivetingFabrications
Summary: “Sure,” says Jason lazily, eyes hooded as he carefully sizes Tim up like he thinks that his successor can’t handle him. “I don’t have a problem with it.” 
And maybe that’s what Tim can’t fathom about it; that Jason Todd of all people is willing to go ahead with this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to a lovely mutual of mine on tumblr :)
> 
> Hope you guys all enjoy <3

“I – are you sure?” asks Tim hesitantly, perched on the side of the bed where Jason is sprawled out on, arms crossed behind his head in a rare relaxed pose.

“Sure,” says Jason lazily, eyes hooded as he carefully sizes Tim up like he thinks that his successor can’t handle him. “I don’t have a problem with it.”

And maybe that’s what Tim can’t fathom about it; that _Jason Todd_ of all people is willing to go ahead with this. It’s been something Tim has been wanting to do for ages now, since their tentative start to a relationship until it became something more definable, maybe almost _boyfriends_ instead of just fucking. But if he just happened to catch Jason on a good day, he’s sure as hell not going to pass up on it. Swallowing, he twists his body so that he’s better facing Jason, who’s watching him with an insufferable smirk.

“You’re acting like you didn’t just suck my dick just a week ago,” Jason observes crudely, and he might have a point. But it’s not – this is uncharted territory for Tim, who’s normally so conservative and reserved in anything resembling a sexual relationship (and isn’t that just a bit sad, that what they have falls into that category?) Tim decides not to grace that with a response, merely swinging his leg over Jason’s hips to bracket thick thighs, straddling his predecessor.

Jason seems content enough to let him do as he pleases now – in gritty alley ways it’s an inevitable hard slam of bodies into brick walls, the bite of fingernails curling painfully into scalps to leave stinging scratches as they devour each other whole. Tim just bows his back, a sigh escaping his lips as he leans forward, bringing his face to a stop just mere centimeters away from where Jason’s is relaxed against the head of the bed.

Neither of them move in that moment, just slow, incrementally regulated breaths as they share that tiny distance of air. It occurs to Tim that his face must surely be expressionless as it is often wont to do when he doesn’t know how to feel, what emotion he should be displaying in the heat of the moment. He wonders if Jason cares, then discards the thought. Of course he doesn’t.

It’s sort of difficult to make out in the nearness of their proximity, but Jason’s eyes are half-lidded but still sharp like a faintly amused predator. His lips are faintly parted, though whether from surprise, anticipation, or something else Tim will never know. (He tells himself he doesn’t care).

“Well?” murmurs Jason, and Tim closes his eyes and takes the plunge.

He throws his inhibitions to the air like he would a grapple line, praying they’ll take him to safety, the feeling of weightlessness not unlike the thudding of his heart against his ribcage and the giddiness of his stomach. Jason catches him from his freefall, dry lips lazily moving against his own. It’s fucked up in a thousand ways, Tim thinks. Batman and Nightwing no doubt know who he’s with but not where they are, otherwise they’d be crashing through the window right about now, and when he gets back Alfred will purse his lips but say nothing on the matter. If Tim can fight crime and live the vigilante life he’s also accountable for the mistakes he pursues. Tim’s smart enough not to flaunt his indiscretions, but no amount of concealer in the world can hide the bruising kiss marks Jason leaves on him.

Jason’s hands slide from their resting position, one slowly raising up to hold back Tim’s longer hair to prevent it from falling into his face, lips moving together gently, the tangible warmth of anticipation.

“You need a haircut,” he comments mildly when they break apart.

“Been busy,” is all Tim says before diving right back in. His tongue presses against the seam of Jason’s lips – no longer gentle, but not quite raw and demanding the way Jason sometimes kisses after rapidly throwing his helmet to the cement to shove his hands down Tim’s tights during a spontaneous rendezvous in the middle patrol. The kiss is persistent, the way Tim’s nature has always been, but not harried, not fast, not forceful, and Jason’s lips part for him willingly. Their tongues tangle together, Jason’s lips nipping teasingly at his until the kiss deepens, Tim tilting his head to slot his mouth more firmly against Jason’s pliant lips.

His hands shove themselves up the hem of Jason’s shirt; he exhales shakily as nimble fingers deftly skim up the planes of Jason’s stomach, ghosting along skin so rarely touched. Jason’s bared pectorals and obliques are tautly defined, but with a subtle give that Kevlar and leather would never reveal; no doubt from the lack of a strict diet that Tim can immediately relate to, the lack of self-care that most of his family will admonish him on.

But for Jason? There’s no one to reign him back, no one to scoff if there’s a rogue order of large fries, and Tim sighs into the kiss as his nails lightly drag down the contours of Jason’s chest and over the faint give of his abdomen. Jason shivers, a fleeting breath that tips into a groan as he folds Tim into his arms, caging Tim against his heavier build and pulling their bodies flush against each other’s. Jason’s warmth envelops Tim fully, and he can’t help but grind down, pulling a choked moan from Jason’s hungry lips.

“You tease,” breathes Jason, and Tim pulls back a little, licking his own lips experimentally, tongue flickering out to wet them briefly.

“Problem?” he asks, eyes half-lidded, and Jason’s eyes narrow. Huge hands squeeze Tim’s sides warningly. A shiver licks its way up Tim’s spine, anticipation and lust flaring hotly in his belly.

“Danger, Will Robinson,” whispers Jason, nosing up Tim’s jawline to nip his earlobe, and Tim swallows thickly in the wake of the burning gaze laying waste to his caution. Jason’s grip on his body tightens until Tim thinks faint bruises will form along the shallow indentations of his ribcage, holding him fast as Jason licks into his mouth, carelessly demanding in a way that tugs Tim into his current, sweeps him away until Jason pulls back, surveying him smugly when Tim sways forward, chasing after the taste of him that sparks like gunpowder yet startlingly _tender_.

The pressure on his ribs vanishes; Tim licks his lips as Jason tugs his already rucked up shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere over the edge of the bed and smirking when Tim’s eyes linger longer than strictly necessary.

“You seem a little _distracted_ , pretty bird.” His calloused fingers curl around Tim’s wrist, pressing the flat of Tim’s palm to his chest. “Felt your eyes on me all night,” he challenges, and Tim hums, leaning in and pressing just the faintest hint of teeth against the slope of Jason’s neck, a silent promise against the carotid artery.

“Did you, now?” Tim challenges as Jason’s index finger slides down the pale expanse of Tim’s neck, pressing against the button of his collar.

“You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are,” hums Jason, popping the button free; his index finger steadily slides lower, inch by inch of skin slowly revealing itself until Jason’s finger hits the next.

“Or maybe I just let you think that,” murmurs Tim, seconds before his tongue laves over Jason’s Adam’s apple, sucking a bruise just below it. Jason shudders momentarily, eyes fluttering shut even as his fingers gradually work their way through Tim’s button-down.

“Maybe,” acknowledges Jason silkily as the final button is undone; broad palms push the shirt loosely over Tim’s shoulders. It slips down his arms to catch loosely at his elbows as Tim pulls away to unfasten the buttons of the cuffs, freeing his hands from the pool of white fabric. Then Jason reaches forward abruptly to palm at the front of Tim’s slacks, making him gasp and rock forward against the heat of his palm.

“ _Jay_ –”

“But you know what _I_ think?” Jason’s voice drops into baritone, dark and sultry as his fingers squeeze the outline of Tim’s lust. “I think that you’ve been wanting this for _much_ longer than you’ve been letting on.” The button is popped, the zipper tugged down; Tim gasps, leaning forward to bury his flushed face into the thick column of Jason’s neck, whining dazedly as Jason palms him through the thin cotton of his boxers.

“That’s it, Tim,” whispers Jason, when Tim gyrates his hips, rocking against the lilting pressure and grinding down on the telltale tent in Jason’s looser shorts. “Fuck,” he curses in a low hiss when Tim pulls the vulnerable skin of his neck into his mouth, nibbling and biting down roughly when Jason’s hand squeezes a touch too hard around his clothed member. “Easy with the teeth,” he manages, voice strained.

“Lose the shorts,” murmurs Tim, breaths coming in pants now, sighing as Jason’s stubble rasps against his shoulder, grazing over faint scars and war stories. “Don’t keep me waiting.” He swings his leg over and off Jason, and Jason grumbles something unintelligible as he pushes his shorts down the v of his hips, the waistband dipping lower and lower, the curls of his treasure trail attractive until it ended at a dark thatch of pubic hair. Tim’s hands paused, about to slip his own slacks off as he watched Jason throw a lazy, offhanded smirk in his direction when his erection bobbed into view, freed from the fabric that Jason now dropped over the edge of the bed.

“Like what you see?” asked Jason throatily, eyes half lidded but unfairly bright and sharp with amusement, and Tim swallows jerkily, finally shucking his slacks with none of Jason’s finesse. There’s a faint damp patch at the front of his boxers, wet with precome; he peels it off the lean form of his legs as well, baring himself to Jason’s calculating eyes.

“Maybe a little,” hums Tim; he lets most of his weight drop forward, hands planting themselves on either side of Jason’s head, hovering above him. Jason’s knees part, giving Tim space to crawl between them. Abruptly his thighs wrap around Tim’s waist; Tim grunts in surprise as they lock around him, pulling him in closer as corded muscles yank him down, crushing him to Jason’s chest as their bodies become a knotted tangle of limbs.

“I think you should show me just how much you like it,” growls Jason huskily. Tim groans as he permits himself to be enveloped by Jason’s solid warmth, fingers fumbling until he fishes out the lube from under the pillow. The snap of the lid is loud in the room, not quite overwhelmed by the sound of their breathless gasps and groans, but Tim only pauses to pour a liberal amount of lube into his hands. Rubbing it between his fingers to warm it, Tim tips his head back to gasp when their cocks bump together, the friction of skin against skin tantalizing and feverish.

“Shit, sorry,” he manages, whining when Jason jolts against him, a low hiss escaping his gritted teeth. His fingers circle Jason’s puckered entrance, gauging its give and the way Jason tenses up – Jason gasps, eyes fluttering shut as Tim’s fingers prod against his hole.

“Going in right for the kill, aren’t you?” purrs Jason, and Tim can easily compare the throaty quality of Jason’s voice to the thrum of his motorbike, a tense hum of motion. Their hard members are sliding against each other, a mess of precome and sweat easing the way until Jason’s slicked up hand (and when had he taken the lube?) grips them both and strokes down. It tears a loud moan from Tim’s throat, leading him to try and stifle the sounds with quiet, desperate kisses into Jason’s hair. It’s dirty and lewd – and the thought has Tim desperately seeking Jason’s touch, the wet sounds from Jason working their cocks in tandem sending another spiral of electricity straight to his groin. The slide of his cock against Jason’s solid hand, the throbbing feel of Jason’s length brushing up against his own – the touch and sights and sounds has Tim’s member pulsing as his finger sinks into Jason’s liquid heat until the first knuckle. Jason arches, eyes flying open as a keen escapes his throat, arms tightening around Tim.

“Shit,” Tim grinds out, and Jason’s muscles flutter about the digit that’s working them open, coaxing him to relax, to accept the intrusion. Jason’s death grip on Tim gradually relaxes; Tim rewards him with distractingly deep kisses. He adds another finger; Jason jerks upwards but Tim holds him down fast.

“Not yet,” he breathes, and Jason’s eyes slip shut once more as Tim sucks little marks into his skin, peppers them over his chest and shoulders. “Let me in, Jay.”

A deep swallow, an inhalation, and then something in Jason’s face _eases_ , not a submission, but an acceptance of sorts, and Tim’s fingers slide home.

“ _Good_ ,” praises Tim, and Jason’s bangs fall against his face, shadowing his eyes as Tim’s fingers stretch inside, scissoring him open, thighs spread open and his flushed cock leaving a mess of precome against his stomach.

“Just get inside me, Timmy,” challenges Jason past a throaty moan, and Tim’s fingers slide out, slick and wet. He’s still reeling from how wet and hot and tight Jason feels around his fingers, the way Jason gradually loosened for him, relaxed enough that he presses the head of his cock against his entrance, can easily feel the give and the alluringly velvet heat awaiting him. He revels in it for a moment, pulls back to properly _look_ down where Jason is splayed beneath him, eyes soft and glassy and neck bared with reddish-purple kiss marks.

“You’re right,” murmurs Tim, brushing back the wisp of white fringe back from Jason’s forehead, smoothing it back with his rumpled, matted curls.

“What?” croaks Jason, eyes focusing on him distantly.

“I do like what I see.” And with that, Tim pushes in, a smooth, slick glide. Jason curses loudly, breaths fast and frantic as his body readjusts to Tim’s girth. A shaking leg presses tightly to Tim’s side, toes curling, tensing, and Tim hitches it up and above his shoulder, nuzzles the inside of Jason’s knee.

“Fuck,” gasps Jason, eyes clenching shut, head falling backwards, mussed locks of black hair a stark contrast to the rumpled sheets when Tim leans over him, pushing deeper and grabbing a pillow to slide under Jason’s ass. Jason groans in relieved, palpable gratitude at the cushion, the angle gentler, the slide a less taxing strain on his body.

Finally Tim bottoms out, sweat beading at his temples. Gazing desperately down at Jason, he wills himself not to move, not to tip over the edge he’s already so close to. Jason chest dips up and down frantically, catching his breath, trying to relax his taut muscles around the cock buried inside him to the hilt.

“You took it all,” pants Tim, brushing the back of his knuckles over Jason’s face.

“Did you ever doubt me?” manages Jason, a strained smirk ghosting over his expression. Tim presses their foreheads together, bows his back in preparation to whisper a single word into Jason’s ear.

“Never.” And Tim pulls back and snaps his hips forward.

The shout is a gust of air punched out of Jason’s chest. His fingers grip Tim’s shoulders, blunt fingertips scraping over old wounds that never quite fully healed when Tim pulls out again, slower this time, sliding home in a way that has Jason all but clutching Tim to him, feeling like his heart will beat out of his chest, like Tim is stealing all the air from his lungs with every stroke. He knows he looks completely wrecked, but Tim is no better, a glossy sheen to his desperate eyes and his bitten lips with just as many marks decorating his throat.

Then suddenly hands slide underneath his ass, hefting him up, Tim surging down and into him. The angle changes, and Jason cries out as Tim’s cock rubs over his prostate, feels the way Tim easily holds him up like he’s not broader and heavier than him, and it only fuels the heat inside him, propelling his arousal to greater heights.

“C’mon, Timmy,” he goads, tipping his head back as Tim mouths thoughtlessly at his bared neck. “Make me come.” He hisses as his hand falls down to his cock, tugging and stroking, gasping when Tim’s hand bat his own away, pinning both his arms to the mattress with a single hand. He’s so damn close; he whines and arches up, clumsily sealing his lips over Tim’s as Tim jerks him off in time to his thrusts that become harder and faster, rocking him further up the bed. His muscles clench rhythmically, instinctually around the cock plunging in and out of him. He writhes desperately, throwing his head back with a final, exhausted moan as he spills over himself, cresting over the edge. Tim milks him through his orgasm, his fist continuing to pump his pulsing cock as splatters of white paint his belly and his chest.

“Look at me,” breathes Tim, and Jason manages a stilted groan as his heavily eyelids flutter open, sees Tim’s hungry, unwavering gaze on him. He starts his thrusts again, the tempo fast and erratic, and Jason lets himself be used, keening thinly at the slap of skin on skin. He has enough strength left to curl his hand behind Tim’s head, tangling his fingers into the soft hairs of his nape, dragging him down into a final, desperate kiss as Tim’s cock pulses inside him, liquid heat seeping into his body. Tim slumps over him; he accommodates the additional weight easily, clutching Tim close to him in spite of the mess on his belly.

Their heartbeats gradually abate from the desperate, urgent tempo of just moments ago, lulled as exhaustion overtakes them.

“Need a shower,” grunts Tim eventually, stirring faintly in Jason’s arms.

He should let him go, let him vanish into the night. Instead his arms tighten warningly around Tim, reluctant to let the warmth of another person slip through his fingers.

“T’mr’w,” grumbles Jason, turning over. Tim eases out of him, and he can feel how loose he is, and how damn wet the junction of his thighs are. He tangles their limbs together, uncaring they’ll be dirty and disgusting by tomorrow once morning breaks. “Like you’re not alr’dy  a pig on your best days.”

Tim scoffs, but his head burrows into the curve of his neck. “G’night to you too,” he mumbles, words barely intelligible.

“Night.”

**Author's Note:**

> My nsfw [tumblr](http://rivetingfabrications.tumblr.com/) which is normally dc but got kinda taken over by voltron, oops.
> 
> Comments and kudos are all incredibly appreciated and inspire me to write <3


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